Outside the Box
by Raifiel
Summary: Motorcity and Randy Cunningham (RC9GN) crossover: Mike always knew that there had to be more than Motorcity and Detroit Deluxe out there. It just never seemed real to him what with all the work to be done within the city. So he is more than a little surprised when two visitors from beyond the city's dome drop in for a surprise visit.


Hey guys, had a great idea about a RC9GN/MC crossover. Basically this is a "What if Norrisville was ruled by McFist the way Deluxe is rules by Kane?" AU. Essentially, there is this theory on tumblr that Kane is ruling just one of many city-states that resulted from the collapse of American government. Cities were auctioned off to rich men and women who could more effectively govern and care for them than the incompetent, collapsed government (of course, we saw how well that worked out with Kane). So where Kane tried to use his power to create a perfect, futuristic utopia, McFist used his to keep things the same while becoming technologically advanced himself (jetpacks, robots, giant flying airships, etc.). But where Motorcity has the Burners consistently, the Ninja changes every four years. So what happens to the old Ninja? They go out and try to help other oppressed city-states that may not have anyone to help them. The Ninjas have created a network between eachother, and the one Ninja that stays behind in Norrisville to get new Ninjas started typically points Ninjas fresh from high school towards Motorcity as a good starting point. Cue this fic.

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Mike grunted under the weight of a Kane Co. robot as it bore down on him, gun turrets emitting ominous clicks as they popped from their sockets and trained on his face. He let out a reflexive whoop as he ducked at the last second, the sudden lack of resistance sending the bot reeling forwards only to be cut in half, mid-turn, by Mike's electro staff.

"Chuckles!" he shouted, activating the team's communication link with a thought, "What's the situation up there?" The team had been out on a routine patrol when a small army of Kane's drones had swarmed out of the surrounding conduction pipes. Now, due to a lucky shot that had crumbled some of the weaker concrete beneath his feet, Mike was separated from his team by a 20 foot drop between street levels.

"We're managing, bro, I think they're mostly aiming at you," came Chuck's terse reply, interspersed by the rhythmic sounds of his breath hitching every time he fired from his sling shot.

"Managing?! Psh, whatever, Texas is totally **totaling** these guys, no problem!" Mike rolled his eyes as he flipped effortlessly over an oncoming robot: obviously Texas was enjoying himself. The moment of brevity was cut short, however, by another robot taking advantage of his airborne position to slam into him while he was unable to maneuver.

Mike took a single, deep breath to shove the pain away for the moment and turned his fall into a controlled tumble that carried him to his feet again. He yelped as he slid wildly to the side to avoid the oncoming rush of bots. Apparently the machines weren't so stupid as to allow a fallen enemy time to recover. Stumbling to the side, Mike jammed his staff into an oncoming bot. Good thing they appeared to have been ordered to capture, not kill, today, because while he could dodge robots with relative ease even in an injured state, bullets were another matter entirely.

Just as he was pushing away the last of the pain and pulling himself back into his usual routine of insane maneuvers, a bright flash of red slammed down into a robot across the fray, cleaving it neatly in two.

**Red.**

_Red is back, and my team is nearby, and this maniac is going to try to kill me kill all of us!_

Mike crouched low, narrowing his eyes against the smoke, heightening his senses, and controlling his breathing. The last Mike had seen of Red, the man was falling to his doom with his only hope for survival crumbling from his body. He didn't know how that homicidal maniac was even _alive_ still, let alone here in front of him, but there was no way he was going to get through Mike.

However, Mike's disorientation was only magnified as another joined the fight. A large figure was hopping awkwardly down a precarious stairway of rubble towards the fray, firing a veritable arsenal of antique-looking weapons down into the swarming mass of robots. Was Red making friends now? God only knew how dangerous he was alone, he did not need help in that regard. And now that he was thinking about it, the two were practically ignoring him in favor of the robots surrounding them. Red wouldn't have let such trivial matters bother him, he would have gone straight for Mike.

Mike allowed himself to breathe, allowed his senses to return from their tunnel vision on the figure whipping around in the fight, allowed himself to realize that just because that might be Red, his situation hadn't changed and he was still surrounded by swarming, death-dealing robots. With one half-wary eye on the pair, Mike returned to reducing the mechanical pests to a pile of scrap.

Some time later, and Mike became aware that, yes, there was an end to this robot swarm and yes, they might actually finish up this ridiculous fight some time soon. He and this strange, red entity that had crashed their brawl had barely exchanged nods, but the other young man (he looked about their age, maybe these two were also rebels? Or more skilled members of Chuck's LARPing community, perhaps?) hadn't ever seemed to shut up. Any time Mike's swath of destruction had neared theirs', he heard the shorter man making gleeful battle puns or snarky comments. The taller of the two seemed mostly to mutter to himself; what he said was too low to hear.

"Mikey..?" Chuck's tentative voice cut in over their connection and his avatar popped up in Mike's peripheral. "We're about finished up here, how are things on your end?" It was almost a shock to hear his friend's voice after what seemed like hours of fighting these annoying pests. Mike had been so focused on this strange new pair and the surrounding battle that he had almost forgotten about his comrades above.

"Whu- Uh, yeah, Chuck, no problem. Almost done." He responded tersely—more out of surprise than any actual effort being put into the battle at this point. Throwing a glance at the two standing in his peripheral, he added, "Got a little… surprise down here." At Chuck's answering query, Mike muttered a quick, "Show you in a sec" before effortlessly cutting the last bot down the middle and turning to fully face to two new arrivals.

The stouter of the two had taken a seat, _actually taken a seat_, and was watching the one with the swords (were those- were those _katana_?) tauntingly slice through the last of the laughably incompetent robots. "Jeez, about time, Ninja. What, gotten slow without the ol' 'Nomicon to hold your hand?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Howard. I'd love to see you pull that off," the other laughed, pulling off his mask and waving cheekily towards the smoking pile of scrap metal.

Mike had seen this sort of banter before: barbs thrown with full faith that they couldn't possibly hurt their target. This was a bit like Dutch and Texas, or a much more intimate version of his relationship with the other cadets back in his Deluxe days. Brothers in arms, Mike recalled Jacob calling it fondly once, a relationship born in fire that can't be broken.

Mike absorbed their appearance as he approached the two. The taller of the two, currently sheathing his blades and shrugging off a worn pack, was thin in combination with his height (about even with Mike). He looked mildly scraped up, nothing major, but his demeanor was not that of a typical Motorcitizen. There was no hint of hopelessness, no evidence of hunger or insomnia. His face held an easy grin, despite the bruises and dirt splashed across it. He stood at ease, clearly completely unthreatened by Mike's approaching figure, which suggested that he was at least familiar with the local legends (or stupid, and Mike was really hoping this guy wasn't stupid).

The other boy had a similar demeanor; though the pair's looks were like night and day. While the sword wielder was tall, dark and pale, this one was short (Texas short, maybe shorter), heavy set and blonde. Everything about him screamed loud, obtrusive, and straightforward. While the taller one seemed completely at ease, this one regarded him with a condescending, slightly antagonistic look that Mike knew he was not in the mood for after a really, really long day.

"About time!" Predictably, the shorter was the first to speak, "You're Chilton, right? Man, I heard you were the cheese, but I bet the Ninja could hand you your butt in a hand basket!" While the one whom Mike assumed was "the Ninja" based on his outfit turned and glared at the speaker with a warning look, Mike took a second to review that sentence. He was supposed to be…cheese? What? What did that even mean?!

"No way, Howard, those were some totally Bruce moves!" The, uh, Ninja turned and faced him, easy grin still in place as he extended a hand. "I'm Randy Cunningham, that's Howard, good to meet you."

Still confused (Bruce? Was that from one of Texas' martial arts movies? Maybe?), Mike returned the gesture and shook hands. "Yeah, uh, Mike Chilton. Though I, uh, guess you already knew that." He threw the pair an uncertain smile. "You two new in town..?"

Howard snorted derisively from his place still seated on top of a decimated robot, "No, you think?" He stood, stretching and ignoring the pointed look from his companion. "Man, fighting robots really takes it out of a guy. **Great**as it is talking in the middle of this trash dump, you guys got a place we can take this to? Like, one with a bed or couch or something I can crash on?"

Mike was taken aback. This was not exactly the way you were supposed to act after a fight against Kane. It occurred to him that while this was most certainly not Red, that didn't mean that these two were safe to trust. After all, there had been no real threat, no alternative plan, no Kane monologing about how he was going to bury them in their rat hole of a sewer. Who was to say that this wasn't a plot in itself?

"Hmm, yeah, for now let's meet up with the rest of the guys." He took a cautionary step away from Randy, clearly the more dangerous of the two, and pointed to the ledge above. Luckily, with a pile of robots on the ground, there was now a fairly safe stairway of mechanical corpses to climb to the upper level where the rest of the Burners were looking down at them curiously.

"**WOW**! Dig the ninja look, bud!" Texas shouted the moment he got a clear look at Randy. "Texas is totally half ninja too, see?! _GUNCHUCKS_! They're like, half nunchucks, half guns!" The two teens began to scream about cheese and Bruce again, and Mike might have heard them asking about what kind of juice it was, but he had decided from the start that he didn't even want to open that can of worms.

He pulled Julie aside while the two were distracted by the loudest Burner's gadgets and pulling out their own arsenal of weapons. "Hey, so I think these two want to head back to headquarters with us," Mike muttered to the team's resident Kane Co. expert.

"Yeah, okay? What's the problem?" Julie looked at the two new arrivals and then back to Mike, questioningly.

Mike let off a huff as he pulled back his scorched bangs before letting them drop back into place. "The thing is, well, look. Have you heard any recent plans from Kane? You know, maybe some _other_ reason these two just _happened_to appear in the middle of a fight?" Mike didn't like being paranoid about people; his gut instinct was to trust everyone. Motorcity needed some trust, and Mike was strong enough to give it freely and protect himself if things didn't work out. But if these two turned out to be some new Kane Co. spies, it wasn't just Mike at stake here.

Julie glanced at his stressed expression, then back at the two, now showing off some of their weaponry to Dutch and Chuck. The two were still going on about cheese and this Bruce guy, and it was clear that Texas was going to pick up that nonsense in a heartbeat. Howard was bouncing excitedly in place as he watched Chuck's slingshot assemble itself on his arm. "Uhm, yeah, Mike, they sure do look like crack spies to me. They're gonna kill us in our sleep, for sure." She quirked a smile at Mike, placing her hands on her hips.

Looking at the two, Mike had to agree. The two had seemed intimidating in battle, but here, now, they just looked like regular teens. "Heh, yeah…I guess you're right…"

As the two returned to the group, Randy turned eagerly towards Mike. "Hey, so, do you know some guy named Jacob around here? I know you must be**_so_** eager to have us," at this, he rolled his eyes and ribbed Howard gently, "But if you could just point us to the guy, we'll get out of your hair."

The Burners stared for a few seconds, long enough for Randy and Howard to recognize the awkward silence and share an uncertain glance, before Chuck giggled nervously and tentatively asked, "Uhm, like, which Jacob, exactly?" They could hardly believe the coincidence.

Randy threw the group a panicked expression for a second while Howard slapped his hand to his face. "Uhg, of course! Of course he didn't tell us the guy's last name!" The loudmouthed teen growled loudly to the mechanical ceiling above. Randy fumbled around, "Uhm, our…colleague told us he runs a… what did he call it, Howard?"

"A 'hippy's paradise' store," Howard adopted a mocking tone while making air quotes with his fingers.

"Right. That?"

Chuck laughed in another high pitched, nervous giggle while the other Burners exchanged an incredulous look. Before any silent consensus could be made between the rational members of the gang, Texas jumped forward. "Oh yeah! We totally know Jacob! We practically live with the guy!"

And so that was how, with a quick call ahead to Jacob (and some exasperated looks at Texas), the Burners plus two were heading back to the diner.

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"Oh yeah. You're one of those Ninja kids, right?" Jacob leaned casually on the bar where the group sat. "You're, what, 18?" The two boys gave a perplexed nod to the old man, to which Jacob smiled, "Ah don't get your pants in a twist. Every four years or so we get a new one of you running through here, fresh from all that hoo ha at your place. One of them sent you this way, right?"

Randy gave another nod, "Yeah, there's a guy in Norrisville, that's where we're from, that told us we should head out in this direction…" He gave a look at the surrounding crumbling buildings and the far off trash heaps visible from the diner's raised position. "Man, I thought McFist was trouble, but the guy who runs this place must be totally wonk!"

The rest of the Burners looked on in confusion at the exchange. "Wait, so Jacob, you know who these guys are? What are they talking about?" Mike interjected.

Jacob looked up, considering his response for a moment, "Well..it's a bit of a long story, but let's just say that Motorcity isn't the only place in the world with problems." At the gang's inquisitive look, the man just shrugged and turned back to the boys. Randy had been nodding along, but Howard had turned to a tin of what Mike was fairly certain was Jacob's meatless marmite meatloaf and was taking experimental nibbles. Brave man.

"So, what's the plan, boys?"

Howard threw a noncommittal shrug at Jacob, gesturing at Randy. "Ask Mr. Ninja here. I'm fine as long as I got a place to crash."

Randy was looking around again. Mike recognized that look. It was the same one he got when he looked at Motorcity: an instinctual need to protect anything he could. "Yeah," the teen nodded decisively, "I think we'll stick around for a bit." He grinned and ribbed Howard again, "No evil, eternal Sorcerer here, but we can settle for futuristic dictator, right?"

Howard grinned, "Yeah, at least people don't just turn into monsters here."

"Weeelllll…." Chuck began, scratching his hair. "About that…" But was interrupted and overrun by Texas.

"No way! You're a Ninja AND you fought a evil wizard?! And it wasn't, like, some lame game of pretend?" Texas shouted excitedly, invading Randy's personal space so quickly that the taller teen let out a yelp and fell from his stool.

Chuck's grumble of "Yeah, so lame that you 'play pretend' every weekend" went unheard.

Randy clambered awkwardly to his feet from his position wedged between two of the bar stools and looked over to Mike, "Is he always like this?"

Mike smirked as Texas began to ramble about some magic film he'd unearthed recently (something about Harry the potter?) and dragged Randy and Howard towards the team's booth seat. "Yeah, pretty much. Welcome to Motorcity."


End file.
